Nanuck doesn’t understand what is so interesting about a piece of string. His copycat game is endearing. We know he is jealous of our rescue-cat, but his good nature outweighs his covetousness (unless food in involved) Ever the gentleman, Nanuck waits, perplexed, as our new addition naps in his bed. Taking time from his backyard romp, Man’s Best Friend invites Kitty to play on his turf, prancing around his oblivious buddy. When our Feline Friend crosses the street without permission, Nanuck is first on the scene, herding Raven away from traffic, helping us to catch this bad example. Nanuck sets the bar high regarding cat behavior: Our Good Boy won’t tolerate claw sharpening on the rug or dashing from room to room in a crazed frenzy; He is quick to bark his disapproval when Raven uses teeth and claws to shred homework or the occasional stray check; Nanuck’s embarrassment…

Many Bothans died to bring us this information.—Mon Mothma, Return of the Jedi

The ancient Greeks told stories of gods and heroes to explain the world as well as to make the long winter nights fly by. Tales of epic wars, capricious gods, valiant demigods, and bold deeds created the mythology now taught in schools and used as clue fodder for Jeopardy. The word mythos is Greek for any kind of story but the idea of a myth has come to mean something larger, a story about extraordinary happenings, extraordinary people, in extraordinary times.

While the Greek stories – and the Roman, Indian, Norse, Egyptian, African, etc. – took hundreds of years to percolate into tales that are now thousands of years old, there are emerging mythologies in today’s culture mere decades old. Yet, if you play the game of “what is a mythology,” it’s easy to claim that

Before Michelle and I left for Michigan to celebrate Christmas with family and friends I wrote a poem entitled Your Buildings Be Damned. That piece was inspired by me waking up one morning to hear a logging tractor cutting down trees behind my apartment. After returning from Christmas break we found an orange fence had been erected around the logging zone and that a significant number of the trees had been removed. They were gone. This is a poem about that orange fence and the removal of those beloved trees.

The orange barricade that has been erected to keep people out of the logging zone behind my apartment.

There is something to be said for spending time outdoors. The sheer magnitude and beauty of our world is awe-inducing and the sense of being in touch with nature can make us feel truly alive. But however much joy we get from being outdoors, I believe there is an equal measure of joy that comes from the comforts afforded to us inside of our homes. Our homes allow us to feel safe. Safe from animals, the elements and, perhaps most significantly, the unshakeable feelings of insignificance and vulnerability that are ever present outdoors.

Inside those walls is our kingdom. It’s where we rule. It’s where we build relationships with others and develop a sense of who we are. It’s where we learn, and where we are free to fail. Our homes provide us with the peace of mind needed…

“Night honey” her parents said in unison; they were already in their bedroom.

Clarissa smiled, her parents were unaware of her secret plan. One that she had been planning all month long. She tucked herself in and waited; her time was about to come.

Fifteen minutes later Clarissa snuck out of her room leaving her door wide open; she could come back in the room without making too much noise. She walked down the stairs tiptoeing as she did so. Her small feet made muffled sounds as she made her way to the ground floor.

She went to the couch; just in front of the Christmas tree. She had already taken a glass of milk and some cookies from the fridge so she can share with Santa when he came. She waited and waited; she was so very…